


Barricade's choice

by Steena



Series: The pound 'verse [4]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of sexual slavery, Angst, Assisted Suicide, Death, Depression, Low Self-Esteem, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide by Spec Ops, The ending of a warrior, The last drive, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-04 02:56:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16338500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steena/pseuds/Steena
Summary: In chapter 272 of the pound, Barricade had a choice to make; the choice of going on or being put down.This is his alternate ending, the one where he chose to be deactivated.





	Barricade's choice

**Author's Note:**

> This may be triggery, as Barricade contemplate the point of staying online. He decides to seize existing, so it's really suicidal thoughts even though he's deactivated by the hands of another person. Do not read if this might be a trigger for you.
> 
> This is crudely edited, because I just find myself unable to re-read it over and over to edit. I apologize for any and all faults, but I'm just not made of stone.

"Ya don't hafta decide right now. Ya can think about it. But ya know ya have tha power in this, it's your choice."

Barricade nods once and grabs the servo held out for him. Jazz pulls him to his feet and it's awkward, so  _very_  awkward, when he stands there, face to face with the Spy. The Saleen nods again to Jazz, then he retreats to his room to think things through.

_Is there really a point to get better?_  No matter where he goes, the shadow of that bastard who turned him into this will always be looming in the corner. He will never go outside again.  _It increases his exposure too much._

So what does he have to live for? The few times Jazz goes out and leaves him alone to watch vid clips and eat treats? Maybe, if he was more like Blackout, he might dare trusting his Master. Then he might find spending time with Jazz to be something worth living for? But his spark isn't into it. The Mustang is too tired, too jaded to even try to get over that obstacle.  _What if he does and it turns out that Jazz is just manipulating him?_

He mechanically eats his energon gels and contemplates his situation.  _Jazz doesn't hurt him, doesn't humiliate him._  But maybe that's just because he wants a willing mech, and Barricade doesn't think that he will ever be willing to interface again.  _And even if he did, what kind of purpose would that be?_  Could being his Master's volunteer to warm up the berth really make him a happy mech?

He notices the clock on the bedroom table tick over as yet another hour of his functioning has passed. It's an Earthen clock, taunting as it reminds him of everything he had back there, everything he  _could've_ had if the Decepticons hadn't been so greedy.  _They could've tried to be accepted there as refugees, could've had the never-ending roads, the sun heating their plating..._  But instead, he's stuck on Cybertron, wearing a shock collar and having his modesty plating closed is a mercy of his Master.

_It's time for his daily shower._  The Saleen pads info the washracks and steps under the warm stream.  _He does enjoy this, but it's just a mundane task._  Who would live for showering once a day? Out of habit, he grabs his spike and jerks off. Sure, it feels kind of nice. But mostly, it's a precaution against overloading in his sleep again. With a low grunt, he spills his transfluid and dispassionately watches it sluice down the drain.

When he is wiping down, he studies himself in the mirror. The Saleen traces a scar along his neck with one of his talons. He slowly turns, flexing his frame to study himself in the mirror.  _How could he ever have found himself good-looking?_  Hideous scarring aside, his shoulder-wings, a feature he used to be  _proud_  of, are protruding like some kind of spindly growths. His chest is just too damn  _big_. Barricade's slogan catches his optics in the mirror, the one he had modified, taking great pride in the suffering it cost him to have the original from his scanned altmode sanded down and re-inked with nanite color.  _To punish and enslave..._  What was he  _thinking?!_  He's so fucking stupid.

Dried up, he goes to berth. The lights are off, but he still stares at the ceiling, laying all alone in his berth. Not that he would want someone sharing it, having mechs close usually means fragging, but still... Being all alone, sleepless, invites to thinking too much about how lonely he is, how pathetic his very long life will be, when the only company he can muster is his own servos.

The Mustang still reaches between his legs, stroking dry folds and unaroused valve-lips. Barricade still isn't working properly of his own accord when it comes to this. Whenever he touches himself like this, he feels filthy. He can't even get aroused without using one of the memories the Bots have planted. Barricade is so fucking pathetic, he can't even  _masturbate_  without help.

It takes a long time after his overload to fall into recharge, but at least it's a good night. He only wakes up two times from nightmares.

When he wakes up in the morning, poorly rested because of the nightmares, the Saleen finds Jazz in the refueling room.

"I've made up my mind."

 

 

*****

 

It's the crack of dawn, the first light just barely tinting the sky, when Jazz plugs into his systems for the last time. Barricade watches with surprise as his t-cog and weapons systems get activated again, but that doesn't change anything.  _It could never be permanent anyway_.

"I ain't doin' it here, and ya deserve to go out tha' warrior ya are."

_Were._  Barricade isn't a warrior anymore.  _How could he ever be, when he has allowed himself to be used the way he has?_

The Saleen follows Jazz outside, then they both transform. His sequence feels both familiar, and still not after all this time, after all the damage he has been through. In his altmode, he feels like himself though, more alive than ever since his capture.  _But that doesn't matter, because this is just a one-time deal._

They drive off, Jazz leading the way. They're sticking to the speed limit, doesn't want to drag attention to themselves, and after a few blocks, Ironhide rolls into formation, flanking Barricade.  _Probably to help distracting authorities from noticing the transformed Decepticon._

Prime joins them after a few blocks more, taking a spot next to Ironhide. They keep rolling in silence, or at least nobody is speaking so Barricade can hear it.

He's surprised when Crosshairs and Drift joins them, and then the Terror Twins rolls up to their procession, following behind the Sniper and the Samurai.

They cross the city limits and Jazz speeds up. Barricade revs his engine, enjoying the feel of his restored power, the thrill of speed and a seemingly endless road rolled out before him.  _Things he won't ever have again._

They stop at the edge of the Sea of Rust as the first rays of sunlight starts to stretch cautiously across the dark sky.  _Prowl is there, as is Ratchet_.

They all transform into root mode, but nobot speaks for a long time.  _He's grateful for it. He has made up his mind, if they tried to get him change his decision, that would just put a shadow over this morning of last thrills and joys before his forever peace._  The Saleen watches as the first sliver of the deep orange sun starts to peak above the horizon.

"Just for your information; nobot here will hold ya in contempt if ya reconsider. But if ya don't, they're here ta pay homage ta a great warrior, a dangerous opponent, n' a mech we all want ta do right by. Even if it means bein' here for your passin' to tha Allspark." Jazz says solemnly. 

Barricade nods once, appreciating the gesture, and that they still respect his wishes. Optimus comes up to them, and the prime splays a servo across Barricade's chestplates.

"It's with great regret I will follow your passing and journey to the well. Until all are one." He says in that deep, solemn voice.

Barricade dips his helm in respect for the Prime, somehow knowing in his spark how much grief and regret Optimus holds for everything that has come to pass. The Prime steps back and Ironhide holds his servo out to the Saleen. Barricade clasps the Weapons specialist's lower arm and Ironhide's servo easily encircles Barricade's slimmer arm.

"You are one pit of a fighter and the world will be a lesser place without you. 'Til all are one."

"Thank you. For trying. Until all are one." Barricade answers.

The Weapons specialist steps back and Barricade turns his helm as Ratchet speaks up.

"They've never heard of the time in China when I held you at gunpoint to repair you. Not until now. I still don't regret it. You're a survivor, Barricade, don't let anyone fool you to think anything else. Until all are one."

Barricade feels his intake quirk at the memory, even though offlining back then would've spared him a whole lot of agony.

"You're one pit of a medic. Thank you." Barricade offers.

"I never managed te shoot ye, ye quick little glitch. 'Til all are one." Crosshairs says, but his smirk doesn't reach his optics.

"I am truly sorry that we failed. You are a great asset to anyone. Until all are one." Prowl says, his voice flat in spite of the fluctuations in his optics.

"I never got to tangle with you, but I know what Sunny looked like when he came back from fighting you. You're a force to be reckoned with. 'Til all are one." Sideswipe says.

Barricade nods to the Frontliner. He's overwhelmed that they wanted to follow him to this, that they care enough to send him off with these words. But it can't change his mind.  _He's done._

"Like Hide said; you're one pit of a fighter. I learned that the hard way. And you always were easy on the optics. Until all are one." Sunstreaker grumbles in that abrasive way of his.

Drift glides up to him with that grace few mechs manage. He holds his servo out for the warrior handshake, and they clasp lower arms.

"Words are redundant. Until all are one." The Samurai murmurs, field nudging Barricade with sorrow and regret.

They let go, and everything is quiet for long minutes as the sun slowly rises further above the horizon. Barricade looks at it, thinking of how beautiful Cybertron can be, and reminded of how much he actually liked Earth.  _But he can never have that kind of freedom again, won't be able to race at full speed down the road in the dead of night to find a pretty spot to watch the sun rise. The Bots are taking a big risk with just this little outing._

"Are ya ready?" Jazz murmurs in his audial, clasping his shoulder gently.

"Yes.

Jazz nods once, visor a solemn dark indigo as he steps up behind Barricade. The Saleen hears the quiet  _snick_  as one of Jazz's blades are flipped open.

"Le's jus' watch the sunrise for a while." Jazz murmurs.

Barricade nods, grateful for the moment as Jazz's servo slides up and down his back-struts in a slow, soothing motion.  _It's actually quite relaxing_.

"I really like ya, Barricade."

An arm slides around his side, holding him just under his chestplates, the other servo still stroking his back and Barricade let's the rising sun blind him, absorb him into light and warmth.

"'Till all are one." Jazz whispers.

The stab into his neural wiring is so fast, he doesn't even feel the sting before he's gone. He doesn't see the Prime wince, a servo against his chestplates, nor does he hear when Ironhide and Crosshairs fires their guns in a last salute to another warrior, claimed not by war, but by spite.


End file.
